


Belladonna

by patheticpunk



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: 1950s, AU, Abuse of Authority, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Asshole Gerard Way, Bottom Frank Iero, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Frank Iero, Crossdressing Kink, Crush at First Sight, Dom Gerard Way, Innocent Frank Iero, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Riding, Secret Relationship, Shy Frank Iero, Sub Frank Iero, Teen Frank Iero, Top Gerard Way, not historically accurate, probably, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-03-20 15:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18995044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patheticpunk/pseuds/patheticpunk
Summary: "Loving him was never enough."The 1950s, a time of intense patriotism and underlying fear. Frank, a shy, mess of a child, finds himself in the center of his families troubles when a new visitor arrives, bringing waves of secrets, lies, love, and action, all directed towards the teen.-This probably won’t be historically accurate to any kinda spy network though I did my best to keep it accurate the time period (besides really really radical homophobia that woulda been happening and the fact everyone in this is pretty dumb and some of the shit they do isn’t realistic). I’m all for constructive and polite criticism, but please keep in mind this was written a year or so ago and my writing has greatly improved since then.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This probably won’t be historically accurate to any kinda spy network though I did my best to keep it accurate the time period (besides really really radical homophobia that woulda been happening and the fact everyone in this is pretty dumb and some of the shit they do isn’t realistic). I’m all for constructive and polite criticism, but please keep in mind this was written a year or so ago and my writing has greatly improved since then.
> 
> Also frank is 18/19 and Gerard is like, 34 I think I’m not sure so pretty big age gap?

"I know we're gonna leave this town  
And get new passports get out now."

1955

Franks shoes tapped along the sidewalk as the sun beat down on his skin, warmth soaking through the cardigan he insisted on wearing—even in the summer. Black pants just adding to the heat of the summer sun, anyone would call this outfit in the summer a bit crazy, but for Frank it was normal. Somehow, he simultaneously had nothing and everything to hide.

He was normal, for the most part. Maybe a little too much of a goodie two shoes, the kind of kid that would turn you in for even the smallest broken rule. He was too apologetic as well, saying sorry and almost crying at even the smallest mistake. Frank was a wreck. But maybe he wasn't the kind of wreck you expected. He wasn't the wreck that was found fucking the local whore while high off any drug you could think of—any drug he could get his hand on. He was the kind of wreck that had a breakdown about once a week, found hiding in his room having not eaten for three days. Of course, it was natural for anyone to fear triggering that sorta of catastrophe inside the quiet boys mind. So no one in the neighborhood really even questioned the boys summer attire, no matter how unconventional. 

He walked at a quick pace, having just fetched a can of soda from the corner store—a trip he'd made only to appease his mothers constant nagging about his lack of outdoor exposure—and wanting to avoid the crowds of teenagers that gathered there almost every summer afternoon. He wasn't one to hang around there, or really anywhere besides his own house. He didn't have many friends, which allowed this reclusive behavior, even if his parents sighed disappointedly every time he told them about his day of reading and extra school work to get ready for the next year. 

Frank didn't particularly like summers. They were itchy and hot, filled with bug bites and sun burns. The only good thing was the constant need for cool relief in the summer heat led him to the ice cream shop often, giving him a good excuse to enjoy the sweet treat he loved so dearly.

He entered his house, sighing at the relief of being back somewhere he found safe. 

"Do me a favor and hand me the salt shaker, would you dear?" His mother said as he entered the kitchen. He instantly picked it up, smiling at his mother who was dressed in a white summer dress, along with a pale yellow apron covering her front as she made herself busy with whatever project she was up to now.

"What're ya cooking, Ma?" He asked, sitting at the dining room table, and watching his mother waddle around the kitchen with a mission.

"I'm trying a few recipes," she said simply, grabbing the vanilla from the shelf. "Your father has a few business associates coming next week." He frowned at this; it was rare his father brought home guests, or was even home himself. His father worked a small job in the government, it was well paying but not too important. In fact, he wasn't even sure what his father did exactly. 

He also hated guests. Whenever someone came over he was forced to sit through the entire time and even talk to them sometimes. If was an awful event, and he already dreaded it.

"Oh honey, don't frown, it looks so horrible on your handsome little face." His mother gripped his face with two hands, squishing it up so he looked absolutely ridiculous.

"Ma..." he whined, pushing her hands off his face. She only chuckled a bit as she went back to mixing whatever batter was held in the light blue mixing bowl.

Frank laughed to himself as he stole a couple chocolate chips from the bag, walking down the hall to his room.

———

"Ms. Williams has... left us."

"Left us?" Gerard asked, looking up from his work desk to face Mr. Armstrong. Gerard couldn't help but think of the worst thing to happen. He tried to search his bosses face for any sign of what could've possibly happened to her, but of course all he saw was a blank face. It wasn't that Ms. Williams was disliked, in face she was admired. Such a young agent being held at such a high rank was almost unheard of. Only the worst must have happened for her to have "left", she had another assignment starting next week. 

"Left us. You'll be taking over her assignment. Your plane leaves tomorrow, I suggest you start getting ready." Mr. Armstrong said simply, throwing a file on Gerard's desk before walking away, leaving Gerard alone with his buzzing thoughts.

Ms. Williams was one of his close friends. Well, as close as you can be. You don't make friends, you make allies, that was an unspoken rule of the agency. Not only was she an ally, she was the only one who shared his secret. In fact, it was the one thing they had in common, something that could, and probably would, get them killed. And he was afraid that was what had happened to Ms. Williams, and now that may happen to him.

When Gerard first took this job, he was given simple instructions. He wasn't destined to do anything too important like Hayley, she was doing much more dangerous things then Gerard, who sat at a desk for most his job. His job was still dangerous though, if he was caught by them he would be done for. He knew that, and taking Hayley's assignment will only make the chances of him being caught more likely.

———

Ever since Frank was a young boy, he had helped his mother with household chores. 

His father was never around, always at work, which gave him the excuse he so desperately wanted to be able to help in his mothers sewing room, something he had admired as long as he could remember. The fabrics of multiple pastel colors lined shelves on one side of the room, the other side was a desk pushed against the wall, a sewing machine sat on top of it. His mother had him help with many of the things she did in there, one of which was making dresses. He had always found it a bit weird that his mother didn't just buy the dresses, but for whatever reason, she much preferred making her own, and even some for his cousins around the holidays. 

She had taught him to make clothes too, finding it absolutely absurd that most boys his age didn't get such education, which could be very important in the future. Her husband agreed with her as she ranted about it one night to him, he hardly heard what she was saying, but agreed anyway, knowing it was much better to agree then argue on something and lose.

In all truth, his mother had wanted a girl. Of course she was happy with what she had gotten, believing that no matter what happened with her child, God had made it to be that way, and she wouldn't try to change it, not too much anyway. But, if she did, say, find her boy  looking at the pretty fabrics on the shelf, and if he did, in fact, brighten as she offered to make him something with those fabrics, she would—no matter how weird it may seem to others—make that boy a skirt, because she knew it would look absolutely adorable on him, and she knew it was what God had decided.

So as other boys learned how to work the barbecue and how to properly use a hammer with breaking a finger, he learned how to make dresses and skirts and bake cakes without burning down the damn house.

"The person who's coming tomorrow, they're very important, Frank." His mother said as he helped her hang up the wet clothes to dry. "You need to be here around three, and wear something nice, yet casual, understand?"

"Yes, ma." He said, clipping the sheets to the line. "But I still don't understand why I need to be there?"

"If this goes well," she started, sighing as she picked up the empty laundry basket. "You'll be seeing much more of them."

Frank couldn't imagine how that could be a good thing.

———

Gerard hated airplanes.

It didn't matter how many trips and missions he went on where air travel was required, he never grew used to them, nor did he ever want to—to grow used to something as ghastly as flying was as if he had grown used to floods, hurricanes, tornados, and tsunamis happening all at one, daily. And Gerard wasn't even known to be that dramatic. 

He despised the general idea of it, of course, being in the sky supported by a machine which operated by science you didn't understand was terrifying, but even besides that, there was more then just the usual fear inducers of flying.

Gerard, though he had experienced it many times, couldn't imagine being trapped in that death machine, let alone with all those strangers. Crying children were the worst, or maybe it was the old men that smoked cheap cigars right next to you. Or maybe it was ladies that smelled so much of perfume you almost threw up. Or people who felt the need to make conversation when you're clearly trying to ignore them and at least attempt to enjoy a smoke in the most god damn awful contraption ever to see daylight. Gerard decided it was the latter, though the perfumed ladies and cigar smokers were a close second. 

Though he hated all these things, Gerard boarded the plane with an obviously annoyed sigh, earning a forced smile from the flight attendant that he returned unhappily. He almost felt bad for her, but then scoffed at himself, her fault for picking such a fucking horrible profession.

From the first breath of air as he walked onto the plane, Gerard that not only did he still hate the damn thing, his bad attitude towards it may have somehow grown stronger since the last time. It was stuffy, small, and it didn't take too long for Gerard to feel like it was closing in on him. For someone who'd spent the last few months behind a desk, Gerard hated confined spaces, and this was no exception. 

Though Gerard pointed out every horrible detail about the death contraption he had boarded, he wasn't scared of air travel—or at least he wouldn't admit he was—he just fucking hated it. He was never one to be afraid of anything, just really mad at it. He wouldn't start hyperventilating and shaking at the sight of a monster like most, he'd probably just yell at it like it had somehow pissed him off by being terrifying. 

That's why, even though it was perfectly acceptable to afraid of flying like many passengers were, he only grumbled to himself as he sat down, ignoring the chatty women sat next to him. She seemed a little miffed at his rudeness, maybe a even a little shocked, but Gerard just rolled his eyes, tapping his fingers along the seat.

The quiet buzzing of chatting people seemed almost soothing, like they weren't about to fly up in the air like fucking birds. People weren't supposed to fly, they weren't meant to! Gerard thought, his fist curling up into a ball, bouncing along the arm rest. Everything about this was unnatural to him, humans belonged on earth, those were their limits, while birds had been granted the freedom by whatever unknown power to live on the land and explore the heavens.

"What's the matter?" A voice says from next to him, sweet and a bit chirpy. It was the kinda voice that either made you smile or wanna punch the owner in the face, and judging by Gerard's expression it was the latter. "Are you scared?" There's a hint of a laugh in her voice, which only exceeds to infuriate him more.

"Of course not!" He says, a little upset that she would assume such a thing. She rolls her eyes, her nails tapping along her leg impatiently. He pulls a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it up and taking a drag in an attempt to calm himself. "Look, I'm sorry. Would you like one?" He hands her a cigarette, which she takes graciously, and they sit through the rest of the flight in some sort of odd, unspoken peace treaty.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this almost a whole year ago, btw my use of tenses absolutely sucks in this (as well as in most of the first half of the fic ive gotta admit)

"Walked into the room you know you made my eyes burn  
It was like James Dean, for sure  
You so fresh to death and sick as cancer." 

Franks gut twisted as he sat in the corner of the small sewing room. It was a place of comfort for him, spending most of his childhood there. Today was the day this person, whoever the fuck they were, was supposed to come over, apparently a work associate of his fathers—an important one, too—who may be spending time around his house.

His house, his one place of refuge, might be infiltrated by a stranger. 

Frank was eighteen—almost nineteen—and he knew he shouldn't be this worried about some business associate of his fathers, he shouldn't be worried about talking to a stranger, this should be a normal, easy thing for him. But it wasn't, he didn't like speaking to people, he barely liked speaking to his family—besides his mother, of course—much preferring to speak to the dog, or reading a book. A great deal of anxiety came with every conversation, and even just sitting there and listening to everyone else speak was a horrific ordeal.

So as he sat there looking at the beautiful fabrics, nausea building up in his throat, Frank thought of the monstrous man that would enter his home soon, how he would be ugly, big too. Probably fat, and old. He'd bring the stench of cat pee into the flowery smelling home, invading the peace with his horrid features and attitude.

Frank almost cried at the thought, and had the sudden urge to lock himself in the sewing room, to weep into soft pale hues.

"Frankie!" His mother called, startling him. Frank stood up instantly, wiping away his tears and checking himself in the mirror to make sure his clothes weren't messed up. He wore the soft colors he adored wholeheartedly, the fabrics of the outfit matching those of many dresses and skirts his mother had made. Remembering the fact, he thought of changing the outfit, not wanting to colors he wore to be labeled as too girly by the stranger that had entered their home. He was stopped from his frantic overthinking by his mother calling for him again.

Frank sighed, dreading meeting this stranger, and upset about the fact he couldn't change his own outfit. The stairs of the house were carpeted, quite soft and unused due to the fact the only upstairs room was the sewing room, which only two people were allowed in; him and his mother. 

A small laugh was heard from the living room, unfamiliar and sweet. Confused by the mental image of the stranger that pollutes Franks brain, he assumes it's the radio, though his father would have turned it off.

"Frank?" His mother calls from the living room, and he takes a deep breath preparing to see the horrid face that had haunted his nightmares for the past week, ever since his mother had told him of this event.

He was shocked with what he was greeted with as he walked into the pastel colored living room.

Instead of the ugly, pig-like man Frank had imagined, he was faced with a young, quite handsome, tall gentlemen. His father hadn't had coworkers come around often, and while a few of the men were fairly attractive—enough so that Frank had found himself guiltily taking glances at them—none of them had been this... alluring. 

The man was tall—at least from the small teenagers point of view—and sported a formal doo of raven locks, in fact everything about him was formal, from his suit to his greeting smile and pale flesh that covered his outstretched hand, waiting for Frank to take it and shake it in the greeting he had done so many times, but couldn't seem to today, as he was stuck to the floor as if his whole body was frozen.

"Frank." His mother murdered from behind him, warning him as discreetly as possible. Unfortunately, she wasn't quiet enough, and the mans gaze flickered from Frank to his irritated mother, his smile changing to a smirk as he realised the dilemma, hazel eyes glimmering with amusement. Franks mother coughed awkwardly, her tone changing drastically as she spoke up. "Shake Mr. Ways hand."

"Call me Gerard, please." Gerard said, taking Franks hand himself and shaking it firmly. All the while Frank just stood there, a little confused but mostly intrigued, now that he could feel the tiniest bit of wonder bubble at the pit of his stomach, instead of the fear that had possessed him earlier. 

Finally, Frank was practically shoved into his seat by his mother, shocking him out of his frozen state. A blush blooms on his face as he glances up to see Gerard taking quick glances at Frank from the corner of his eye. 

"So, I hear you're here on very important business?" Franks mother chimes in, folding her hands on her lap properly.

"Yes ma'am, I am, unfortunately, it seems I can't discuss that with you." Gerard says, his smile bright and polite as he addresses her. "I am, though, so thankful you'll be allowing me to stay here for a while. I only expect to be staying here for about six months, as you know, before deciding if I'll be transferred here or go back."

"It's our pleasure, really." Franks father says, obviously trying to stay on this mans good side for the sake of his job. "And of course we won't be getting in your way or anything, right Frank?" Frank nods his head slightly, still quiet, looking down at the white carpet. 

"Thank you, again. Now if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to get settled in?" Gerard asks, standing up.

"Oh of course, Frank, would you show him to the guest room please?" His mother asks, and Frank stands up instantly, walking off and down the hallway, hearing Gerard's footsteps follow right behind him.

"Um, here you go." Frank gestures inside the room, and Gerard steps inside, smiling at him warmly.

"Thank you." He says, setting his things on the floor, and stepping close to Frank, leaning on the doorway casually as the teen walks away. "Oh, and Frank," Frank turns back, facing the man and chewing the inside of his cheek so his lips mouth slides a little side. "I wouldn't mind if you bothered me sometime." Gerard winks, and with that Frank is left dumbstruck in the hallway.

———

"Have you arrived yet?" The grainy voice asked through the phone, and Gerard held back the urge to sigh in distaste at its expressionless tone, it was as he imagined a math teacher would sound in the fall. 

"Yes." Gerard says simply, his voice just as dead as the others, though he wasn't yet broken down like the man speaking to him, and only sported the masked voice to match the others. He just hoped his act was good enough, not having much experience with these agents since most of his job was spent behind a desk.

"Remember your assignment, it's fortunate Ms. Williams job involved more then one agent to be completed, or we'd be doomed with you on the case." The voice said this like he had a bad taste in his mouth. Gerard was a good, well trained and even well experienced agent, but it wasn't like they knew that, it wasn't like anyone over there new that. They just thought he was supposed to be good but got put behind a desk due to some mess up or failure on his part. "You'll be getting pieces of information from your 'job' and leaving the files exactly at the predesignated spot, understand?" Sure.

"Yes, I understand." Gerard confirms, hearing a huff from the other side of the line.

"And if anyone gets in the way, you know what to do." The person on the other side let out a dry laugh, finding the idea amusing and probably expecting Gerard to cringe at the thought. He didn't. "You're practically invincible." 

Gerard smirked, it was a sick idea, really, but it was also the best thing he'd heard all week. Maybe all year. "Expect a call from us in the next week, goodbye." The voice spoke, almost somewhat cheery—probably at the idea of someone like Gerard having to kill.

"Goodbye." And with that, Gerard hung up the phone, stalking back to his car from the old telephone booth. 

What a terrible world we live in.

———

Frank sat out in the humid evening, throwing a ball against the wall mindlessly. Days like these shouldn't be spent outside, but on his mothers request, he dragged himself out of the house, just in time to see the sun set. It was probably best past of summer, in Franks opinion, at least, the sunset. Not being thrown into chaos by mountains of school work was quite nice sometimes, like in this case, where he actually had time to enjoy the sunset instead of seeing a flash of orange outside his window while he sharpened a pencil. 

Maybe the itchiness of it all was a big downside, but Frank could get over it for the most part; taking cold showers or staying in the comfort of his house were often his activities of choice when the heat of the summer sun decided to beat down on his world especially ruthlessly. 

Frank can here the buzzing of voices from inside the house, the clink of glasses and the shuffling of chairs. It was strange, really, because there were only three people inside the house, but it felt like a party of adults he couldn't dare to interrupt. His parents voices sort of mixed, almost as if marriage caused them to share everything, even the same voice, a twisting, dull, version of the seperate two. Or maybe it was that his father hardly spoke. Either way, the two voices were quite hard to pick apart, making it easy to hear Gerard's voice over the noise. 

Frank wished he had the guts to walk away from the front porch, to go find his friends and do teenage things. But instead, he stayed there, mesmerised by the voice of a man almost twice his age, it could be assumed he was younger from his appearance, it was more then likely Gerard's age was closer to Franks fathers then Franks, considering his profession. If he worked in the government and had a seemingly high position compared to Franks fathers, it could be assumed he was older, but there was still a little hope in Franks mind that Gerard was only in his mid twenties. It really didn't matter anyway, for even if he was younger, Frank would still have no chance of having a conversation with the older. Sure, that seemed ridiculous, but Frank didn't have a doubt in his mind Gerard saw him as nothing.

Frank was used to be seen as nothing, as hard as he tried to be seen as anything besides a complete wreck, he didn't succeed, knowing the only other things he'd ever be known as besides what he was now was a fag or mamas boy. Most likely both.

It was almost funny to Frank, and it wasn't like he could deny either of those things; it was true he spent too much time with his mother—she was his only friend, really—and there was no question he hadn't caught himself staring and fantasizing. In fact, the arrival of the knew guest was just further proof to the case against him.

Gerard had only been there for a few hours and Frank was already much too curious for anyone's taste. It was easy for Frank to find himself infatuated with the dark haired man who had barely even spoke to him, it was easy for the boy to get caught up so easily, if he was being truthful, it happened very often, but never had he had a chance like this, a chance that was really no good for no one involved, Frank was far too hopeful for something he knew would go downhill.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> every chapter i post i feel the need to express my embarrassment for it. also im really sorry if i haven’t responded to any comments any of you may have left, im pretty bad at keeping in check with those things

"I wanted freedom  
But I'm restricted  
I tried to give you up  
But I'm addicted."

One month later...

The large, corporate looking building easily grew familiar to Gerard. He'd worked in places like this, undercover or not, and he quickly came to the conclusion all of them were more or less the same. And there were many of these buildings. Fairly tall and large, they seemed to stand over others, though they were all about the same size. 

In particular, the one he entered right now was actually quite charming compared to other buildings he'd been in, short steps carved the path to the entrance of simple, glass push doors. When he finally got inside, he was greeted by the clerk, who gave a flash of a smile in his direction before looking back to her work. 

Up one floor was one of the main work rooms. Desks lined this place, people busy at work, typing away or looking through different files. So buried in their tasks that didn't even notice the man passing through the room, he didn't really mind though, lightning another cigarette as he strolled through. It really was a nasty habit. 

Finally, reaching the end of the stretching room, Gerard opened a door to reveal a busy man sitting behind his desk. The boss of all the other busy bees buzzing around the office was just as overworked as his workers. The jittery, overworked, underpaid, and overly caffeinated man, who introduced himself as Patrick Stump, barely noticed as Gerard walked into his office. Looking up quickly, quickly enough to not even notice who'd entered his office. 

"Uh, hello." He said quickly, shuffling through some papers before looking up to properly greet the other. "Ah, yes. I take it you're here for the files? Which ones today?" Patrick knew he was much too calm in this situation, he messed one thing up and the entire operation was fucked over the head, but the same thing could be said for Gerard's position, and he seemed completely composed.

"222.3 and 454.7." Gerard says easily, and Patrick thinks to himself. Gerard wonders if Patrick is trying to recall the exact files, in which case the man must have a fantastic memory.

"Makes sense." Patrick say, grabbing two keys from a drawer in his desk before scoffing to himself and he strolling out of the room, signaling Gerard to follow. "Weapons files, of course. You're lucky you've got me, those are pretty hard to find."

They take a quick walk back through the room of busy bees, down a hallway, and then they come to a stop. Gerard's about to ask where Patrick is going, seeing as there's nothing there, when he opens a door out of nowhere. It leads to a service elevator, one much more industrial looking then the one he'd taken up. They go down about three floors, and when the elevation comes to another stop, the back wall opens up, letting them out.

"Well, that sure is confusing." Gerard says and Patrick smiles.

"Needs to be." Patrick states, plucking a key out of his pocket and opening the door. As the door opened, Gerard could only think that it really didn't look like much. Cabinets filled the room completely, only leaving a little room to walk in between them. Patrick was on a mission as soon as the door opened—heck, he was on a mission years before Gerard even knew his name—scurrying towards the back and letting Gerard trail behind him, running a little to keep up with Patricks quick stride.

After rows and rows of bluish gray cabinets, Patrick finally stopped, taking one of the heys he had on him and opening another lock. He shuffled through the files quickly, easily finding the one he was looking for and handing it over to Gerard. Patrick slammed the drawer shut and locked it again. Gerard wondered what kind of brain this man had to be able to so easily pick a single file out of hundreds, maybe thousands of the similar looking documents. 

Again, Patrick picks up his fast speed, charging to another row of cabinets. This time he's a little more hesitant, looking at the key before picking which cabinet to open. When he does, he's back at his sonic pace, practically throwing the papers at Gerard.

"Here ya go." Patrick says after locking the other cabinet. 

"Thanks, I really appreciate the help." Gerard smiles kindly, and Patrick returns the gesture, leading the other out of the room.

"Well, it is my job. I'll be seeing you soon enough I take it?" With a simple yes and a quick goodbye, Gerard was out of the building with the documents that he hadn't been asked to get, but had been asked to give.

———

The hot, summer sun beat upon Frank like a punch to the face from someone who just wouldn't give up. Nothing was worse then this, the endless days summer days, and though he had decided that so long ago, it seemed worse this year. This time was not just a sticky, hot summer, no, it was so much more then that.

Days he usually spent preparing for the next school year or reading a book we're spent trying to catch glimpses of the man who walked around the house, often pacing like he was thinking about something. The things that used to bring Frank joy were practically useless compared to this new hobby, but when he did find himself bored, he never seemed to get to do anything for very long without Gerard's eyes fallen upon Franks hips as they swayed to music, or his lip as he bit it in deep concentration.

It seemed to get worse everyday, and it didn't help that his parents were either oblivious or trying to ignore his crush on the guest, letting him continue to feed his obsession, even inviting Gerard to eat dinner with them every night, providing Frank an excuse to stare at the man a little more, as if he hadn't spent his whole day doing just that.

They spend day after day doing these things, staring at each other, driving each other crazy—even if one of them is more obviously so—and doing all this without setting any worry in anyone's mind besides Frank, who couldn't help but think Gerard was just a man who wanted to mess with the teens emotions for kicks. And maybe he did.

———

Dinner was a quiet—almost sickeningly quiet—time, and even with the arrival of the new guest, there isn't much to talk about. Gerard took the opportunity of eating with them to sit right next to Frank, too close, really. Frank surely isn't used to the attention Gerard gives him, especially since the man almost never talks to the younger boy. Its the weirdest thing for Frank, because yet Gerard doesn't even address him verbally, he feels as if a spotlight he's being shined upon him.

They go through a few weeks like this after Gerard first arrives; Frank finding the man staring at him for much longer than necessary, letting his touch linger on Frank when his hands found a way to settle upon him.

Frank didn't like to think about those things though, instead taking these chances to get a good look at the mans face again and hoping he didn't notice. Unfortunately for Frank, Gerard usually did notice, smirking in response as if he could control the dirty thoughts that ran through the teens mind late at night.

The clattering of dishes is what brought Franks out of his thoughts, a loud, disruptive sound that made his first instinct to be to turn to whoever caused the commotion, but this act only brought him to the conclusion that he was the one who had dropped his utensils. 

The three adults all stared at Frank, waiting for him to pick up his cutlery, but he couldn't. It almost seemed as if Frank himself was waiting for him to pick it up, but he still couldn't. He couldn't pick it up for it had landed right at Gerard's feet, and the last thing Frank needed to add to his already hormone induced dreams was the memory of literally kneeling in front of the man.

His mother sighed, putting down her fork and knife exasperatedly. "Aren't you gonna pick that up, darling?" She asked, trying to be as nice as she could, though she couldn't imagine what was making act so oddly.

"I um, I—" Frank tried to gather his words in some excuse rather then the truth.

"Frank, maybe you should listen to your mother." Gerard said, smirking playfully at the boy, which only made Frank blush heavily. Out of the corner of his eye, Frank could see his mother smiling in agreement to the guest, his father hardly even paying attention to the situation.

Frank scoots off his chair, crawling to the ground in search of the fallen items. The carpet is a bit itchy but still oddly soft, and he almost wishes he could stay down here, avoiding the man that stalked his dreams with lust and desire. The way Frank thought about Gerard made it seem as if he dreaded him, but in reality he dreaded that he couldn't have him. It wasn't like all these damn smirks and winks meant anything to the older, it was just a game. Gerard might as well call Frank a fag and leave, maybe he would, there was no telling what kind of sick entertainment he got from Franks humiliation.

Frank found the utensils, and was about to make his way back to his seat when he felt a hand pet his head softly.

Shit.

Frank knew the hand was Gerard's, obviously. Another one of his damn games, another one of his tricks, but even with that knowledge, Frank desired nothing more to lean into Gerard's touch, let himself be caressed by them. In the span of a few seconds, Franks mind wandered to every thought he'd ever had staring those hands, from how it would feel for his jaw to be cradled by them as he was pulled into a deep kiss, to the warmth they would bring exploring his naked body, even the beautiful burn that would sting his skin if Frank were to be hit by Gerard's hands.

As those thoughts ran through his head, his parents wandered what took him so long to pick up the cutlery and Gerard almost laughed as Frank leaned into his touch unknowingly. Really, Frank only came out of his odd, trance like state when Gerard's hand came to cradle his chin, tilting his head up so he was kneeling right in front of him, looking directly at the mans crouch. Gerard looked down at Frank briefly, giving him that fucking smirk he despised and loved so much.

"Frank, it can't take you that long to find your fork. Quit acting like a child and get back up here." His mother said firmly, and he took a deep breath and crawling out from under the table, hoping his hair wasn't too out of place from Gerard messing with it.

Only a few seconds after silence had fallen over the table again and everything was normal, Gerard had to ruin it, leaning into to whisper something to Frank. "You look pretty damn good on your knees, Frankie." He said in the quietest voice he could muster, though Franks mother still saw him whispering, causing her to cough to bring some kind of attention to the fact, to which Gerard only smiled sweetly.

"Sorry, ma'am, I was just asking him about school. I didn't want to disrupt the table, it seems you like to keep it quiet, yes?" Gerard practically sasses her, a strong accent making Frank hold on to every word. He can tell his mother wants to say something back, but doesn't.

"Oh, of course." Franks mother smiles forcefully. "Frankie will be a senior in the coming school year, won't you be, hun?" Even if she didn't wanna talk to this man, she wouldn't dare give up a chance to talk about her son at any given time. Even if it was obvious no one cared, especially Gerard and Frank who seemed to be heavily regretting that fucking dropped fork. Though Gerard was still quite proud of making the younger uncomfortable.

———

**Author's Note:**

> what did you guys think?


End file.
